The Ketchum keystone. [volume] (Ketchum, Idaho) 1885-1899, 1887-04-16

He Remembers His Joyous Boy.
hood and In GIloefml.
New York Times,

New York Times.
1t is very distressing to be rich
| Some folks may not believe this
but Mr.. Jay Gould insists that it j.
so, and Mr.. Gould is supposed t.
know a thing or two about beine
rich.
Recently Mr.. Gould sat on sofa
in the Windsor hotel and tried tc
make newspaper reporter content
ed. If Mr.. Gould didn't succeed
that was merely because the news.
paper reporter happened to be mar.
row-minded, not that Mr.. Gould's
philosophy was weakened.
"After ALL" quoth Mr.. Gould
after all, what does any man get
in this world except something to
eat and something to wear and
somewhere to liver"
His conundrum unanswered by
his listener, Mr.. Gould answered il
himself.
"The poor man ought to be the
happiest man," went on the mil
lionaire. Wealth brings cares
without compensation. A man gets
rich then he's slave. Very mis-
taken ideas exist on this subject" F"
With so much promised Mr..
Gould proceeded to tell in a genial
way of the joys that once he him.
self knew and now was too rich to
know any more.
"Ah," he said, 81 often recur to
the days when was boy up in
Delaware county. l was a pretty
happy lad. There wasn't much
wear and tear in life then. How
good it would feel just to 60 out
and drive the cattle home from pas
ture once more! And how deli
cious it would be to stoop down by
the old COW to do the mornings
milking and just sqirt a stream of
her fresh, hot milk between my
lips as l used to do! That was
nectar. That's what gave an ap-
petite for breakfast !"
Mr.. Gould's eyes glistened. Boy
hood memories were evidently
much to his taste.
"a boy on a farm ought to be
one of the happiest beings alive" /"
he added. "He may leave to 60
out in the buster world, and he may
make more money elsewhere and
in other ways, but he'll never be a
jot happier anywhere or anyhow
not a jot; it isn't in human possi-
bility to be happier. OF course,
though, nobody is ever contented. |
remember how it was with myself
One of my boy friends was Sam Dim
mick, who lives up at kingston-on-
the-Hudson. His father, Col. Dim
mick, was one of the well-to-do men
up in Delaware county in those
times, and remember that / used
to wish that something would hap
pen that would enable me to get as
rich as he was. He seemed like a
Crnsus to me. And l left the
farm"
The reporter thought of one or
two people he had heard about who
would have been just as happy if
Mr.. Gould had not left that farm,
and others who were willing to see
him go back; but this impudent
idea was unuttered, and the remin-
iscent millionaire, continuing, told
about one experience that used to
attach to his hobble-de-hoy times
that was not altogether happy.
"Going to church" he explained,
contributed this one bit of sad
ness. We used to start from home
early every Sunday morning." he
said "and ride over to the little
yellow meeting house where the
country round worshipped. At 10
O'Clock the proceedings began.
They were real proceedings, too. l
can see the tall old elder yet as he
locmed up in the pulpit and went
at his sermon. Eleven o'clock
came, and the elder was just get
ting under way; IL o'clock arrived,
and he was only becoming warmed
up. At IL 80 we adjourned. All
over? Oh, no. We were only on a
half-hour's furlough. The sermon
stopped in the middle to let us eat
the lunches that we had to bring
along. After the lunch the DOM
inie plunged ahead unchecked till
we'll on toward evening. How hard
those board benches in the yellow
Westinghouse used to get! How
very tired even some of the most
pious ones used to grow! Often
and often, / remember, the elder
would come to a sudden halt, look
down despairingly on his devoted
flock and calculate: Wake up !!
wake up! Why, every soul of you
is asleep That would help for q
little while, perhaps, but ! tell you
it was pretty trying sometimes on
the best of folks.
"About the only time, I think.
when ! was real genuinely interest,"
ed at church in those times and
~Sma 0nQ